


Bad Moon Rising

by Lywinis



Series: One Shots -- Capsicoul [15]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Getting Together, He goes berserk on some agents, Just a touch of blood-madness, M/M, T.A.H.I.T.I. goes horribly wrong, They get out though, Vampire!Phil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-27
Updated: 2014-03-27
Packaged: 2018-01-17 06:26:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1377226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lywinis/pseuds/Lywinis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I see the bad moon arising.<br/>I see trouble on the way.<br/>I see earthquakes and lightnin’.<br/>I see bad times today.</p><p>Don’t go around tonight,<br/>Well, it’s bound to take your life,<br/>There’s a bad moon on the rise.</p><p>—CCR, “Bad Moon Rising”</p><p>T.A.H.I.T.I. goes horribly wrong. One day, Phil wakes up thirsty...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bad Moon Rising

"He’s not how he was before," Bruce said, blocking the way to the sealed off section of the helicarrier. "Whatever Fury used to bring him back, he’s…different."

"Then I should be the one to talk to him. He…looked up to me. Maybe I can talk some sense into him." Steve zipped up his suit and shouldered the shield, his boots clanking on the metallic floor. "He needs someone he feels he can trust."

"Then send Fury’s eyepatched ass in there. You’re dog kibble if you think you can take him on. Did you see the video!? He grabbed that probie by the jaw and yanked him up into the air vents!" Tony gestured to the video feed. "We don’t even know where he is!"

"All the more reason I should go," Steve said. "I wore armor around my neck in the forties for a reason. HYDRA, for some reason, thought the answer was always more vampires. Let me handle it. He respects me. I can talk him down."

"He respected you until you blew him off in the helicarrier," Clint said.

"I don’t see you going in there," Steve countered.

"That’s because I’m not a moron."

Steve sighed and snapped the collar of his suit closed.

"If I’m not back in an hour, we proceed with Tony’s plan,’ he said.

The metal door creaked open, and he stepped into the gloomy light of the helicarrier’s engine room. The whole thing was awash in noise, the chug of the engines loudest here. He moved through the belly of the ship, shield out and alert.

“ _Steeeeeve_.” The voice echoed throughout the pipes of the engine room.

"Phil?" Steve called, trying to bait him into showing himself, or at least talk some more so he could suss out where he was through sound.

“ _Steeeeve…_ " He didn’t sound pained, or hurt, which was good, Steve supposed. " _Have you come down to feed me? I’m so hungry, Steve. The other operatives dried up hours ago…_ ”

A manic giggle echoed through the hallway. Steve swallowed, knowing that surprise was his element, and he wasn’t even sure he had it anymore.

"Phil, I need you to come out. You didn’t hurt anyone, did you?" he called.

“ _They’re sleeping. Sleeeeping_.” Another manic giggle. “ _Shouldn’t have brought me back. They should have left me where I was._ ”

Steve listened to how things echoed, and crept down the hallway.

“ _Thiiiiirsty_ ,” the voice came again, and Steve shivered. Because now it sounded like Phil was calling for him. One thing was for sure, Phil needed him. “ _I’m thirsty, Steve. Come and have a drink with me._ ”

Steve kept going.

The pipes rattled and creaked down in the hold, and Steve breathed through his nose, trying to keep as silent as possible.

“ _ **Who’s strong and brave, here to saaaaave the Americaaaaan Waaaay?**_ ”

Phil was crooning, and Steve recognized the song. It was enough to send chills down his spine and he swallowed hard. The patter of feet had him alert, and he whirled.

Nothing behind him. Even with his stellar vision, the belly of the helicarrier was dark and unfamiliar.

“ _ **Who vows to fiiiiight like a man for what’s right night and daaaaaay?**_ ”

Another manic giggle sounded in the darkness.

“ _Poor Steve_ ,” came the voice. “ _Looking for one little agent in the sea of all these pipes. Jasper had the same idea. He’s sleeping now…_ ”

Steve frowned. He’d need to get those people to safety. As though reading his mind, Tony piped up.

"We’ll pull them out if you can corner Coulson," he said. "We’ll have to contain him, anyway."

"Roger that," Steve whispered, and the giggle sounded again.

“ _Tell Stark I said hello. I’m just sorry he wasn’t the one to come looking for me._ " There was the shriek of bending metal and the hiss of steam. " _I’d have liked to have peeled his suit open and eaten him like tuna._ ”

"…that’s not creepy," Tony said.

"Shush, Tony." Steve crept forward, to where the emergency lights covered the area in eerie orange lights.

“ _Steeeeeve,_ " came the voice again. It sounded closer, and it did sound like Phil was in pain now. He stopped, looking around. " _So thirsty…hurts._ ”

"Tell me where you are, Phil," Steve said. "I’m coming to find you."

“ _No, don’t_ ,” Phil moaned. “ _You should go back. Don’t really want to hurt anyone._ ”

"I know you don’t. I need to come and find you, so we can help you."

“ _Why?_ " came the voice, plainitive. " _You didn’t care before. No one cared. I was just the agent._ ”

"That’s not true."

“ _Bullshit._ " Steve flinched at the anger in his tone. "I wasn’t anyone to you. Why do you care?"

"Because I came as soon as I heard you were alive, shouldn’t that count for something?"

“ _So you came to see the miracle for yourself, huh?_ " Phil crooned. " _Well, you’re almost there…_ ”

He rounded the corner and saw Phil crouched on the floor, someone in his grasp. He squinted, and saw it was Jasper.

"He’s still alive," Phil crooned, rocking on his heels. "I needed bait."

He grinned, revealing needle teeth, like that of a pirahna, jutting up from bloody gums.

"Come and say hello, Steeeeeve," he said, giggling.

"I’m here to help, Phil," Steve said. "Come on, let Jasper go. Come here."

"So you can put me down?" Phil stood, slumping like he carried a weight. "Is that why you’re here? Let my guard down because I idolize you. Because I love you, and then —"

He made a noise in his throat like the grinding of bones, and Steve flinched. Phil moved, like lightning. He was there and then he wasn’t, and if it hadn’t been Steve he wouldn’t have been able to track it. Phil sprang up the pipes and dove straight down, fangs bared.

Steve grabbed at him, but Phil shredded the collar of his suit and sank his fangs into Steve’s neck.

Steve sighed and went limp. His whole body was warm, and he was cradled against Phil’s chest, crooned to happy and soft. Every pull from Phil and Steve’s eyes closed further. He was warm. He was happy. He was in ecstasy and he didn’t want Phil to stop.

His hand cupped the back of Phil’s head and he moaned.

"Phil…"

"Shh…let it happen." Phil licked the side of his neck. "You taste…you taste amazing…"

Steve’s vision blurred, and then Phil slumped over him, breathing deeply. He sat up, groggy, and found Tony over him in the Hulkbuster.

"You good there, Renfield?" he asked. "Because your damsel was in a full out vampiric bloodlust."

"I’m okay. What did you…"

"Hulk tranqs," Tony said. "Eight of them."

"Jesus."

"Well, while you were playing Bride of Dracula, I located and extracted every other victim but Jasper here. You’re welcome," Tony groused. "Can you walk?"

"Y-yeah," Steve said, swinging his head like he was drugged. His heart raced as he saw Phil, looking normal and slumped in his lap. How had Phil gotten there? He passed a hand through Phil’s hair, and the agent’s face twitched.

"Yo, Bella, let’s go," Tony said, lifting Jasper in the Hulkbuster’s arms. "Grab Edward and let’s get the hell out of here."

"We’re getting him help, right?"

"Yes, but if he wakes up, I’m out of tranqs, so  _ **move**_.”

Steve lifted himself to his feet, picking Phil up and cradling him to his chest. Phil turned his head to him, and Steve sighed as Phil tucked himself against his neck. His pulse raced, and adrenaline cleared his head a bit.

He helped Bruce settle Phil into the hulk tank. Steve pressed his palm to the glass as the door squeaked shut.

* * *

Phil paced the tank. It had been four days. The first day, he’d sung to whoever was in the room, drawing them closer until he could charge the sides of the tank. He knew of the failsafe, though, so he stopped milimeters before it, his eyes red and bloodshot as he hissed.

Steve had been brought in to quiet him on the fourth day.

"Steeeeeeve," he crooned.

Steve sat next to the tank, his face impassive.

"Steeeeve, I’m thirsty…"

"No, Phil." Steve pressed his lips together, until they ran white.

"You liked it as much as I did, Steve," Phil said, pressed against the glass with his eyes glued to Steve. "You know you did. Felt good, didn’t it?"

"No, Phil. Doctor Banner is working on a cure. We’re going to make you better."

"I’m fine as I am," he said, sing-songing the words. "I’ve never felt so good. Powerful. Your blood is awesome. Tastes so good. Thought it would. Like lightning in a bottle."

Phil’s palm squeaked down the glass, and Steve flinched internally as he brought his claws to bear, marking the glass with a screech.

"I know you want it again," he said, his voice soft as he spoke to Steve. "You sit outside the tank like you’re keeping watch, but we both know different. We know if you had the codes to the tank you’d be in here with me. So I could taste you. Would you like that?"

"That’s enough," Steve snapped. Phil quieted.

"I can’t feed on anyone else now…" Phil said, rocking back and forth. Steve glanced, and he’d sunk to a fetal position, hugging his knees. "Everyone else’s blood tastes like garbage."

"We’re going to find you a cure." Steve leaned back in his chair.

"I don’t want a cure. I want you," Phil moaned, looking miserable, for all the glee he had shown in scaring Bruce’s assistants.

Tony passed through the door.

"How many?" Steve asked, muting the tank. "Everyone make it?"

"Agent Kota was the worst off, I think she was the first caught when the change happened," Tony said, ruffling his own hair. "She’s sleeping, but the transfusions went well."

Steve sighed. “Her neck was pretty chewed up.”

"We stitched it, but she’s going to bear scars for the rest of her life."

"Phil’s not going to like that."

"Well, he seems pretty happy about it." Tony pointed, and Steve turned.

Phil’s head was tilted, his eyes glittering as he smiled.

"How’s the cure coming?" Steve asked.

"Bruce is working on it, but as he’s said before, he’s ‘not that kind of doctor’." Tony made a quacking motion with his fingers as he rolled his eyes. "We brought in Richards and Pym to help out. If they can’t help out, Bruce is gonna try and get Strange in here to change him back, if science proves he’s incurable."

"I know you’re all working as hard as you can," Steve said. "Thank you."

Tony’s eyes softened. “You really do care about ol’ Lestat in the tank there, don’cha, Louis?”

"He didn’t deserve this. Or what I did to him before," Steve said. "I want to help him."

"Well, you’re keeping him in check so far, so you’re doing all you can. He won’t drink anyone’s blood but yours, so you’re basically a giant capri sun until we can figure this out," Tony said. "You’re doing your part. Speaking of which, it’s almost feeding time. Want me to…?"

"I’ve got it," Steve said softly. "I’ll do it."

"Suit yourself," Tony said. "I’ll bring in more food that’ll help you replenish."

Steve nodded and waited until Tony left before he unmuted the tank.

He pierced his skin and the blood bag began to fill, drawn from him as his heart pumped it into the bag. A pint later, and he opened the drawer where items could be passed from the outside to the inside of the tank.

Phil was there, his nose pressed against the glass.

"Here you go, one pint for the day."

"Can I just have your arm?" Phil asked, looking mournful.

"No."

"This stuff is tainted. Tastes like plastic."

"Well, get used to it. We can’t risk more bites."

Phil sank his fangs into the bag, a sullen expression on his face. Steve’s heart went out to him; but then again, Steve’s heart went out to Phil a lot of the time. He hadn’t asked for this. Fury had just started injecting him with things.

"Tell me more about yourself?" he asked. He’d tried the question before, when he’d first gotten there and since then. Each time he’d gotten a slightly different answer.

"You want to know about me? They killed me, then they brought me back to life." He shrugged. "Could be worse. Could still be rotting on that table."

He giggled. Steve found himself frowning.

"Better luck tomorrow, Steve," Phil said and curled up on the bed provided. A mattress on the floor was better than nothing, after all.

Steve watched over him as he slept, lost in thought.

* * *

Six days later, Reed Richards and a man named Doctor Morbius were able to cure Phil. A tablet dissolved in his daily blood pack dispensed the cure to him, and Phil writhed on his mattress for eight solid hours while Steve paced.

Eventually, the fever broke, and Phil slept.

When he woke, Steve was gone, but Bruce was there, and smiling.

"Welcome back to the land of the living," Bruce said. "Do you want some juice and some crackers to start you off?"

Phil’s stomach rolled.

* * *

Two weeks later, and Phil was pronounced fit. He left the tank, showered and slept like a proper human being in a bed. He hadn’t seen Steve, but then, he hadn’t expected to.

What on earth had he been thinking?

He stuck to the BUS and to his office, avoiding everyone. Kota got flowers, as did everyone else. Jasper had already been by to punch him in the arm and then go out for pancakes. (There was a reason he and Jasper were close.)

But he hadn’t seen Steve.

Maybe that was a good thing.

Phil rubbed his eyes. He hadn’t been sleeping, and it showed, in dark pasty circles that were starting to rival Doctor Banner’s when he came by to check on him. Bruce said the Avengers sent their regards, and that was good.

He finally succumbed to sleep and dozed off over mission reports.

His dreams were full of hunting.

_He paced through his apartment, the long, dark hallway lit enough for preternatural eyes. He could smell what he wanted, the scent of leather and honest to god shaving soap leading him to the couch, where Steve slept. He’d fallen asleep with a book in his hands, and Phil set it to the side._

_Blue eyes fluttered open when Phil laid a hand on Steve’s cheek. A quirk of his lips, not quite distaste, and Steve pulled his shirt collar away, exposing the line of his throat. Phil bent to it, his lips grazing the pulse that beat sure and strong. A whimper from Steve, the sound of prey, and Phil pinned him, strong but gentle, his hips straddling the other’s as he sank his teeth into Steve’s neck._

_Good blood, warm and rich, filled his mouth, and he let out an approving moan, the noise almost obscene, but he was hungry. Steve understood, tilting his head and resting his hands on Phil’s hips. One of Phil’s hands snaked into Steve’s hair, holding him close as he fed. Steve’s hips rolled up, and Phil gave another approving noise, drinking deep._

_He finished, lapping at the wound that was already closing._

_“Better?” Steve asked, his baritone quiet in the dark of the room. If there was a hitch to his breathing, a stutter to his heartbeat, neither of them mentioned it._

_“Much,” Phil replied, his eyes clear and bright again. He made no effort to lift himself from Steve’s hips, and Steve was loath to move him, if the thumbs circling his hipbones were any indication. Phil stroked his hand through the thick blonde hair, tousling it._

_Steve tilted his head, his lip between his teeth._

_Phil saw the motion, and ran his fingers along the strong jaw. “You don’t have to be here, you know. Not if you don’t want to be.”_

_“Does it look like I’m leaving?” Steve’s lips quirked up, his hands tightening their hold. “You need me.”_

_“More than I think you know.” Phil was close, close enough to touch, but it was Steve who closed the distance, his lips claiming Phil’s, and Phil was pulled close, into Steve’s gravity again, and this time, there was no escape._

Phil woke in the middle of the day, wiping sleep from his eyes and swearing at a mission report with ink all over it.

Damn it.

* * *

Steve sketched in another line, trying to get it just right. He’d blocked out Phil’s face hundreds of times. The sketchbooks were locked in his rooms, something different about each of them as he perfected the agent’s face.

"You’ve got it bad," Tony said. Steve slammed the sketchbook shut. Tony looked triumphant. "Why not go talk to him?"

"Because I’m pretty sure it was just the bite," Steve said. "I know…there’s nothing deeper there."

"Did you bother to ask?" Tony asked, taking another bite of the apple he’d been munching.

"Well, no…"

"I can guarantee he thinks he disappointed you, and is avoiding you," Tony said. "And people say I’m bad with relationships."

Steve rolled his eyes.

"I should at least go check on him."

"Atta boy." Tony sauntered back to the elevator. "Go on, kid, you bother me."

Steve went to clean the charcoal off his hands and pull on a fresh shirt.

* * *

Phil didn’t look up at the knock on his door. “It’s open.”

"Agent Coulson?" Steve asked, and Phil’s head snapped up.

"Captain Rogers." Phil swallowed visibly. "What can I do for you?"

"I was wondering how you were?" he asked.

"Doing as well as can be expected. The Twilight jokes stopped about a week ago," Phil said. He made his expression more bland. "I expect I’ll be fine here soon. Weekly tests show the vampirism seems to be completely gone."

"That’s great news," Steve said. "We should celebrate."

"We should?" Phil cocked his head.

"Well, sure. You’re feeling better, and that’s swell. We should go out or something."

"A-are you feeling all right?" Phil asked.

"Me? I’m fine. I wanted to take you out. Is that…a bad thing?"

"No, n-no. I just…are you sure it’s not a long term effect of the bite? Bruce said that the euphoria and false sense of closeness would fade. It was…supposed to help me feed."

"I don’t think it’s…false, Phil." Steve moved a little closer and seated himself on the corner of Phil’s desk. "I was so glad you came back. No one I know comes back. But you did. I think that’s why I went to talk to you."

Phil swallowed again.

"So, dinner?" Steve prompted.

"Yes, of course. Dinner. Proper dinner." Steve beamed at him and leaned over the desk to press a chaste kiss to Phil’s lips. "What if it IS a residual of the bite?"

"Then no pressure. If it wears off and we don’t feel the same, we go our separate ways. Is that okay?"

"I…guess so. How about Friday?" Phil asked.

"Great," Steve said. "I’ll pick you up at eight."

* * *

It was not, in fact, false euphoria, Phil found. He petted through Steve’s hair six months later as the soldier dozed and he read a case file.

All’s well that ended well, he supposed.

Steve, sleeping soundly, seemed to agree.

**Author's Note:**

> This was a prompt on my personal tumblr, and it was SUPPOSED to be a drabble. But it got quickly out of hand. Here we are, though, vampire!Phil. Not exactly my vampire!virus Phil, I wanted something a little more feral, based on his recovery.


End file.
